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MEM  OR]  A  L 


GERARD  HALLGCK 


.1.    HALSTKD    ('AKK01J.. 


MEMORIAL 


OF 


GERARD   HALLOCK: 


BY 


J.  IIALSTED  CARROLL. 


NEW    HAVEN. 

PRINTED  BY  TUTTLE,  MOREHOUSE  A  TAYLOR. 

1866. 


The  following  Discourse  was  delivered  in  the  South  Congregational 
Church,  New  Haven,  January  14th,  1866.  In  this  delineation  of  Mr. 
Hallock's  character,  the  author's  thanks,  for  valuable  assistance,  are 
due  to  his  honored  predecessor,  under  whose  ministry  the  deceased 
united  with  the  Church ;  also  to  the  elder  brother  of  the  deceased ; 
and  to  the  family  for  generous  access  to  private  correspondence— 
the  letters  of  father  and  of  husband. 


ivilb'0451 


DISCOURSE. 


"  BEHOLD  AN  ISRAELITE  INDEED,  IN  WHOM  is  NO  GUILE." — John  v  :  47. 

"FOR     HE    LOVETH    OUR    NATION,    AN'D     HE     HATH     BUILT    US    A    SYNA- 
GOGUE."— Luke  vii:   5. 


GERARD  HALLOCK,  our  dear  departed  broth- 
er, of  whom  we  stand  pledged  to  say  some- 
thing commemorative  to-day,  was  born  in 
Plainfield,  Mass.,  on  the  eighteenth  of  March, 
in  the  year  1800.  He  was  the  son  of  Rev. 
Moses  Hallock,  highly  distinguished  among  the 
ministers  of  his  day  for  his  humility  and  devo- 
tion. In  1815,  when  fifteen  years  of  age,  he 
entered  Williams  College,  and  graduated  in 
1819  with  the  second  honor  in  his  class,  hav- 
ing left  the  first  to  his  brother,  Rev.  Wni.  A. 

Hallock,  D.D.,  then  six  years  older  than  himself. 
2 


6 

Their  excellent  father  had  educated  these  two 
sons  for  the  ministry,  and  sent  them,  though 
not  yet  converted,  to  Andover  to  study 
divinity.  There  William  professed  religion  and 
became  a  minister  of  the  gospel.  But  Gerard, 
despairing  of  his  own  conversion,  left  Andover, 
and  in  1823  entered  upon  that  calling  in  life,  in 
his  judgment  second  only  to  the  ministry  in. 
Christian  usefulness,  the  editing  of  a  religious 
newspaper.  He  was  soon  invited  to  exchange 
his  prospering  infant  enterprise  for  one  of  the 
same  kind,  more  responsible  and  remunerative, 
and  accepted  the  invitation.  Yery  soon  he 
was  called  to  another  position  of  the  same  kind, 
still  more  extensive  and  commanding,  and  this 
too  he  accepted.  In  1827,  to  reform  and 
christianize,  if  possible,  the  political  press  of 
the  country,  the  Journal  of  'Commerce  was  estab- 
lished, and  having  failed  in  the  hands  of  Mr. 
Maxwell,  of  Ya.,  and  Mr.  (now  Dr.)  Bushnell,  of 
Conn.,  it  was  offered  to  Mr.  Eallock  in  1828. 
Upon  reflection,  he  accepted  the  proposal 


made,  became  a  joint  proprietor  with  David 
Hale,  Esq.,  and  continued  to  discharge  the 
onerous  and  honorable  duties  of  the  position 
until  August  31st,  1861.  At  this  time,  a  sum- 
mary process  of  one  branch  of  the  govern- 
ment against  the  Journal,  summoned  him,  in 
its  operation,  to  decide  whether  he  would  sur- 
render his  principles,  or  his  paper.  On  that 
day  Mr.  Hallock  retired  from  all  connection  with 
the  Journal  of  Commerce,  after  a  laborious,  suc- 
cessful, valuable,  and  honorable  editorial  career 
of  thirty-eight  years.  Since  that  time,  he  has 
been  living  quietly  at  his  home  in  this  city,  as 
a  private  citizen,  finding  his  principal  interest 
in  his  Christian  duties.  His  health  began  to  fail 
nearly  three  years  ago  ;  he  became  desperately 
ill  not  long  since,  and  under  a  terrible  complica- 
tion of  diseases,  he  departed  this  life  at  his  resi- 
dence, on  Thursday,  the  4th  of  January. 

When  a  man  of  mark,  merit,  and  benevolent 
achievement  passes  away,  it  is  manifestly  proper 
that  his  surviving  neighbors  should  turn  aside 


from  ordinary  business  and  spend  an  hour  in 
surveying  the  work  he  has  done,  and  the  powers 
that  wrought  it,  that  thus  they  may  cherish 
a  grateful  memory  of  the  departed,  and  com- 
mend his  example  to  universal  imitation. 

It  is  hard  to  compute  Mr.  Hallock's  work 

for  man.     It  may  be  said,  in  general,  that  he 

has  left  the  world  the  benefit  of  a  long  life  of 

unblemished    morality,   terminating    in   later 

years  in  a  personal  Christianity  most  consistent, 

liberal,  regular,  and  zealous.     It  may  be  said,  in 

particular,  that    for  a  considerable  period  he 

conducted  religious  journals  in  different  cities, 

by  universal  consent,  with  distinguished  ability  ; 

that  by  prominent  co-operation  he  secured  the 

establishment  of  the  Southern  Aid  Society,  and 

thus  contributed  to  re-open  a  channel  for  the 

disbursement  of  Northern  Missionary  funds  at 

the  South  after  the  original  avenue  had  been 

closed  by  the  national  organization  ;  that  by 

troubling  himself  to  obtain  some  history  of  the 

parties,  and  the  sums  required  for  their  libera- 


tion,  by  repeated  brief  and  earnest  solicita- 
tions in  his  paper  for  the  necessary  contribu- 
tions additional  to  his  own,  and  by  receiving 
and  transmitting  the  sums  contributed,  and 
continuing  this  operation  for  a  succession  of 
months,  or  years,  to  his  honor  we  record  it,  Mr. 
Hallock  secured  the  liberation  of  a  large  mul- 
titude of  slaves  ;  and  finally,  that  he  constructed 
a  commodious,  excellent,  and  well  furnished 
Christian  sanctuary,  and  donated  to  its  occu- 
pants a  liberal  support  for  a  succession  of  years. 
But  we  must  pass  by  these  and  similar  servi- 
ces, to  find  Mr.  Hallock's  pre-eminently  valuable 
work  on  earth.  Half  a  century  ago  all  good 
men  felt,  and  the  common  parlance  of  the  world 
confessed,  that  every  Christian  virtue  had  long 
been  banished  from  the  political  journals  of  the 
day.  It  was  solemnly  proposed  by  good  men, 
into  this  most  important  but  abandoned  field  to 
attempt  the  introduction  of  Christian  moral- 
ity, dignity,  charity,  and  truth.  To  accomplish 
this  worthy  end,  the  Journal  of  Commerce  was 


10 

established-  in  1827,  and  committed  to  the 
editorship  of  two  of  the  most  talented  and  dis- 
tinguished men  of  that  day.  The  enterprise 
failed  and  was  about  to  be  abandoned,  when,  as 
a  last  resort,  Mr.  Hallock  was  earnestly  be- 
sought to  undertake  the  discouraging  task. 
As  we  have  seen,  he  did  so,  and  all  admit  that 
he  maintained  the  Christian  virtues  in  the  con- 
duct of  a  political  paper, — that  very  platform 
on  which  such  virtue  had  been  strangled  for 
a  generation. 

In  proof  of  this  important  fact  we  shall  ad- 
duce but  two  witnesses.  The  first  is  popular 
concession.  A  few  days  ago,  a  retired  merchant 
in  Brooklyn,  with  much  earnestness  thus  ad- 
dressed a  friend: — "I  hear  that  Mr.  Hallock 
is  sick.  Do  remember  me  to  him  most  kindly. 
I  love  and  honor  that  man.  For  thirty  years 
before  I  knew  him,  I  could  find  the  truth 
nowhere  but  in  his  paper,  and  I  always  found 
it  there  "  Now  just  what  this  man  affirms  of 
the  truthfulness  of  Mr.  Hallock  and  his  paper, 


11 

has  been  asserted  by  the  impartial  men  of  all 
parties,  in  all  sections  of  the  country,  for  the 
last  thirty  years.  Should  this  testimony  be 
disputed,  we  present  a  more  incontrovertible 
witness.  In  Mr.  Hallock's  house  there  is  a 
service  of  plate,  bearing  this  inscription  : 

"  Presented  to  Gerard  Hallock,  Esq.,  by  his  fellow  citi- 
zens, as  a  memento  of  their  regard  and  esteem  for  the  able, 
faithful,  and  impartial  manner  in  which  he  has  discharged 
his  duties  to  the  public  as  editor  of  one  of  the  principal  jour- 
nals during  the  interesting  and  exciting  Presidential  cam- 
paign o/*1844." 

This  service  of  silver  was  presented  to  Mr. 
Hallock  by  men  of  both  political  parties,  in 
nearly  equal  numbers. 

He  was  one  of  the  most  immutable  of  men. 
What  was  true  of  the  principles  of  his  editor- 
ship in  1844,  was  equally  true  of  his  habitual 
practice  both  before  and  since  that  period. 

Now  if  for  the  weal  of  men  in  the  preser- 
vation of  truth,  he  stepped  upon  one  of  the 
most  crowded,  and  popular,  and  powerful  are- 
nas of  human  life,  where  Christianity  had  been 


12 

thrown  down  and  trodden  under  foot  for  half  a 
century — I  say,  if  Mr.  Hallock  did  indeed  stem 
that  fierce  torrent  and  act  out  the  saving  prin- 
ciples of  Christian  virtue  boldly  and  successfully 
for  four  and  thirty  years,  then  here  is  a  work 
whose  manifold  important  benevolent  bearings 
human  arithmetic  can  hardly  compute.  Think 
of  all  the  moral  and  religious  intelligence,  doc- 
trines, and  counsels,  which  from  this  elevated 
stand-point  were  dispersed  over  a  broad  area 
of  ruling  mind,  for  four  and  thirty  years ! 
Think  of  all  the  commanding  influence  of  the 
Journal  of  Commerce  over  the  democratic  press 
of  the  country,  and  the  necessary  exemplary 
power,  restraining  and  sanctifying,  upon  all  the 
hostile  cotemporary  journals  of  the  city  and 
the  land,  for  the  same  long  period.  Think  of 
all  the  shaping  of  events  and  measures,  of  the 
course  of  parties,  of  the  destiny  of  the  nation, 
by  those  valued  editorials,  so  seasonable,  mas- 
sive, well-poised,  sagacious,  and  intrepid — for 
the  same  long  period!  And  who,  I  say,  can 


13 

readily  comprehend  all  the  work  done  for 
Christianity  and  the  country  by  his  protracted 
services  in  the  conduct  of  the  Journal  of  Com- 
merce for  four  and  thirty  years!  Surely  to 
accomplish  all  this,  some  sort  of  power  was 
necessary.  What  was  that  power  ? 

Gerard  Hallock  was  a  man  of  no  ordinary 
intellect.  So  thought  his  classmates,  accus- 
tomed as  they  were  to  recur  to  his  high  schol- 
arship for  the  solution  of  the  mysterious  prob- 
lems of  the  lesson  they  did  not  comprehend. 
So  thought  the  Faculty  of  Williams  College, 
when,  at  his  graduation,  they  awarded  to  him 
these  prominent  distinctions,  the  Greek  Ora- 
tion and  the  Poem.  So  thought  the  Christian 
public,  when  they  furnished  so  liberal  a  pat- 
ronage to  three  religious  papers  of  which  he 
was  successively  the  editor.  So  thought  the 
political  world,  when,  through  its  flattering 
countenance  that  very  journal  which  two 
selected  men  from  the  north  and  south  had 
failed  to  set  in  motion,  through  his  supervision 


14 

had  been  gradually  worked  up  to  a  position  of 
unexampled  prosperity  and  power.  So  thought 
the  government,  when  they  ascertained  that 
the  editorials  of  the  Journal  of  Commerce  exer- 
cised so  commanding  an  influence  over  the 
press  of  the  land. 

Were  the  intellect  of  Mr.  Hallock  subjected 
to  a  careful  analysis,  it  would  probably  be  pro- 
nounced eminently  excellent  in  four  respects. 

Its  simplicity.  Simplicity  was  the  ground- 
work of  every  element  which  made  up  the  man, 
and  certainly  pertained  to  his  mind.  In  its 
structure  and  operations  there  was  nothing 
stately  or  rigid ;  nothing  showy  ;  nothing  an- 
gular or  overstrained.  On  the  contrary,  in 
all  its  conceptions  and  utterance,  his  intel- 
lect was  perfectly  simple,  natural,  childlike, 
straight-forward. 

Its  accuracy.  In  all  its  judgments  and  state- 
ments, its  arguments  and  language,  Mr.  Hal- 
lock's  mind  was  extraordinarily  accurate. 

Its  strength.     Whenever  he   was  found  in 


15 

company,  in  his  wisdom  and  modesty,  he  never 
opened  his  lips  unless  he  had  something  to  say. 
The  moment  he  commenced  to  speak,  every 
one  felt  that  what  he  might  say  would  well 
nigh  settle  all  doubts  upon  the  subject.  Thus 
judged  by  conversation,  all  men  felt  the  ruling 
strength  of  his  mind.  Try  his  intellect  by  the 
next  theatre  of  display,  paragraph  writing. 
The  editorials  of  the  Journal,  so  seasonable 
and  sagacious ;  so  just  and  true ;  so  full  of 
common-sense  and  forecast, — verily,  it  would 
seem  to  be  the  general  verdict,  that  for  naked 
practical  strength  such  another  body  of  politi- 
cal paragraphs  can  scarcely  be  gathered  from 
the  press  of  the  country.  The  last  and  high- 
est ordinary  ordeal  for  the  trial  of  intellect  is 
polemic  discussion.  He  was  a  shrewd,  expert, 
and  powerful  debater.  He  always  exhibited  a 
dignified  spirit,  and  pressed  the  strong  points. 
He  knew  how  to  assail,  and  how  to  retort ;  to 
detect  a  sophism,  or  despise  an  insult.  He 
knew,  too,  when  to  administer  the  keen  thrust, 


16 

and  when  to  deal  the  heavy  blow.  In  a 
word — to  lay  your  hand  upon  the  man  who 
was  a  more  accomplished  polemic,  or  had 
successfully  broken  a  lance  with  the  editor 
of  the  Journal  of  Commerce,  you  would  have 
to  travel  far,  and  then  probably  fail  to  find 
him.  Thus,  judged  by  any  of  the  ordinary 
methods  of  testing  mental  strength ;  candor 
would  certainly  pronounce  Mr.  Hallock  a  man 
of  powerful  intellect. 

After  all,  the  crowning  characteristic  of  his 
mind  was  versatility.  He  was  ever  ready  for 
any  mental  work  to  which  he  might  be  called — 
narration,  discussion,  calculation,  or  prediction. 
In  all  these  fields,  be  the  topic  what  it  might,  he 
would  throw  out  strong  common-sense  views 
which  would  be  sure  to  commend  themselves 
to  the  reader.  And  should  you  prefer  an 
excursion  to  the  regions  of  fancy,  he  could 
accompany  you  there.  Beyond  a  question, 
he  had  all  the  temperament  and  genius  of 
a  poet.  He  who  seeks  satisfaction  on  this 


17 

point,  may  find  it  if  he  will  peruse  the  fugi- 
tive productions  of  his  youth,  or  the  more 
delicate  effusions  of  his  riper  years.  Indeed, 
the  Faculty  of  Williams  College  have  well  nigh 
settled  this  question.  They  knew  him  well, 
for  they  had  the  intimate  handling  of  his  mind 
for  years.  At  his  graduation,  they  awarded  to 
him  the  Greek  Oration,  to  fix  the  grade  of  his 
scholarship  :  and  then,  they  awarded  to  him 
the  Poem.  Why  ?  They  then  and  there  orig- 
inated this  distinction  purposely  to  express 
their  high  admiration  of  his  peculiar  poetic  tem- 
per and  capacity.  May  we  not  say  then,  in 
conclusion,  that  Mr.  Hallock's  mind  was  char- 
acterized by  distinguished  excellence  in  simpli- 
city, accuracy,  strength,  and  versatility. 

But  why  discuss  the  intellectual  claims  of 
our  modest,  noble  brother,  at  this  late  day  ? 
The  meed  of  superior  faculties  and  scholarship 
has  long  been  inscribed  on  the  record  of  uni- 
versal acknowledgment  and  admiration ;  and 
since  his  death,  has  been  most  cheerfully,  hon- 


18 

orably,  and  abundantly  conceded  by  the  bitter- 
est and  ablest  of  his  opponents  in  the  edito- 
rial fraternity. 

No  man  should  be  surprised  that  Mr.  Hal- 
lock  accomplished  so  valuable  a  work  in  life, 
when  he  reflects  that  his  moral  character  was 
every  way  equal  to  his  mental  endowments. 
Nathaniel  was  an  Israelite  indeed,  in  whom 
was  no  guile.  Barring  idiocy  and  infamy,  the 
negation  of  all  guile  is  well  nigh  equivalent  to 
the  affirmation  of  all  rectitude.  How  far  our 
departed  brother  merited  the  encomium  passed 
upon  Nathaniel,  none  but  Nathaniel's  eulogist 
can  accurately  tell,  especially  as  the  deceased 
was  singularly  retiring  and  reticent,  and  there- 
fore opened  himself  but  very  partially  either 
to  the  observation  or  conversation  of  men. 
We  do  not  wonder,  then,  that  so  many  of  his 
neighbors  entertained  the  belief  that  he  adopt- 
ed his  views  of  Southern  institutions,  simply 
to  court  the  patronage  of  the  South  ;  his  po- 
litical creed,  only  to  curry  favor  with  the  dom- 


19 

inant  party  in  politics  ;  in  a  word,  that  he 
managed  all  his  affairs  with  the  single  purpose 
of  securing  to  himself  material  aggrandizement. 
Alas !  How  little  did  such  men  know  of  our 
departed  brother !  The  world  has  seldom  seen 
a  more  guileless  man.  He  was  a  radiant 
representative  of  a  class  of  virtues  certainly 
the  least  conspicuous,  if  not  the  most  worthy. 
The  deceased  was  eminently  pure.  Although 
he  ever  felt  and  freely  owned  himself  one  of 
the  vilest  of  sinners,  so  diminutive  were  the 
vicious  alloys  of  his  character,  and  so  infre- 
quent their  exhibition  in  life,  that  it  is  ques- 
tionable whether  his  most  intimate  acquain- 
tance could  readily  recur  to  a  single  act  or 
expression  of  Mr.  Hallock,  which,  at  the  time, 
he  had  naturally  set  down  to  passion,  or  pride, 
or  ambition,  or  covetousness,  or  selfishness, 
or  malice.  Compared  with  men  as  we  find 
them  in  life,  it  is  indeed  a  hearty  comfort  to 
feel  that  our  departed  brother  was  remarkably 
pure. 


20 

The  deceased  was  eminently  upright.  It 
would  be  hard  to  conceive  a  deeper  implan- 
tation of  the  principle  of  justness  than  he  uni- 
formly exhibited.  Who  ever  charged  him  with 
an  act  of  injustice  ?  Who  ever  found  his  own 
reasonable  claims  disputed  by  him  ?  How 
conscientiously  strict  to  enquire  into  all  the 
circumstances  of  every  case,  that  he  might 
know  ah1  that  was  due  ?  How  patient  to  hear, 
how  impartial  to  weigh,  how  fair  and  honest 
to  decide  upon  every  old  suggestion,  every 
new  consideration,  which  a  neighbor  felt  dis- 
posed to  urge  ?  Indeed,  it  may  be  said,  with- 
out fear  of  contradiction,  that  he  was  accus- 
tomed through  life  to  conduct  and  settle  every 
successive  transaction  upon  principles  so  every 
way  just  and  fair,  that  the  discovery  of  the 
slightest  inequitableness  perpetrated  by  him- 
self, would  have  distressed  him  until  the  en- 
tire affair  had  been  most  thoroughly  examined 
and  righteously  arranged. 

The    deceased   was   eminently    modest.     He 


21 

never  spoke  of  himself,  and  never  invited  the 
commentary  of  another  upon  his  performance. 
At  the  expense  of  style,  he  would  write  and 
re-write  every  word  of  his  articles  so  as  to  ex- 
press the  exact  truth,  but  never  a  word  did  his 
heart  suggest  or  substitute  to  win  the  praise 
of  men.  No  friend  of  the  deceased  could  be 
more  shocked  than  he  would  be  by  any  man's 
affirmation  that  Mr.  Hallock  had  assumed 
more  than  he  was  entitled  to,  or  affected  to  be 
what,  in  truth,  he  was  not.  Through  life  he 
shunned  the  public  eye,  and  was  surprised  and 
disconcerted  by  every  honoring  ascription. 
He  sought  to  do  his  duty,  and  so  seriously  was 
this  his  one  great  aim,  that  few  men  were  bold 
enough  to  venture  a  personal  compliment  in 
his  presence.  And  yet  he  could  be  pleasant  in 
view  of  some  aspects  of  his  self-abnegation. 
"  I  have  been  elected  to-day  to  the  very  first 
office  I  ever  held."  "And  pray  what  is  that.?" 
said  his  friend.  He  very  pleasantly  replied : 
"  A  tithing -man  in  the  South  Church." 


22 

The  deceased  was  eminently  gentle.  He  was 
never  boisterous,  or  forward,  or  rude.  True, 
his  manners  were  often  cold,  and  sometimes  a 
little  petulant ;  but  who  ever  saw  him  in  a 
passion  ?  or  felt  that  his  heart  was  malig- 
nant, or  his  tongue  vituperative?  On  the 
contrary,  his  spirit  was  almost  uniformly  bland 
and  placid  ;  his  manner  calm  and  gentle  ;  his 
habit,  taciturn  and  retiring.  To  the  poor  he 
was  always  attentive  and  respectful ;  to  all  men 
mild  and  courteous  :  amidst  the  prosperities  of 
business  just  as  simple  and  grave  as  ever  ;  in 
all  the  distressing  pangs  of  his  last  illness,  his 
silence  was  never  broken  by  the  first  note  of 
complaint,  but  now  and  then  relieved  by  a 
look  or  a  word  that  seemed  to  proceed  from 
studied  cheerfulness  within. 

The  deceased  was  eminently  truthful.  The 
all-dominant  properties  of  his  character,  were 
simplicity,  rectitude,  and  truth.  He  was  cer- 
tainly a  man  of  singular  veracity.  He  never 
uttered  or  suppressed  a  word,  never  acted  or 


23 

failed  to  act,  to  produce  a  false  impression. 
The  truth,  the  literal,  exact  truth,  he  ever 
studied  to  speak.  He  withheld  nothing  that 
truth  demanded  ;  he  did  nothing  to  conceal  the 
truth.  To  deceive  his  neighbor  was  the  one 
thing  he  ever  labored  to  avoid ;  to  present  the 
truth  perfectly,  the  one  thing  he  ever  sought 
to  accomplish. 

The  deceased  was  eminently  kind.  The  poor 
know  this.  The  Church  of  God  knows  this. 
And  many  a  stranger  knows  this,  who  will 
never  disclose  to  us  the  name  of  his  benefactor 
till  the  judgment  day.  Nor  is  this  the  only 
undiscovered  field  of  his  sympathy.  Few  men 
know  that  one  of  Mr.  Hallock's  peculiar  eleva- 
tions above  themselves  lay  in  the  fact  that  his 
benevolence  was  not  confined  to  his  race.  If 
the  numerous  and  diversified  family  of  God's 
inferior  creatures,  who  find  a  home  round 
about  his  domicile  from  year  to  year,  could 
manage  to  find  a  representative,  they  might 
experience  a  pleasing  relief  in  bearing  testi- 


24 

mony,  that  of  all  their  fellow-creatures  in  this 
region  of  country,  he  was  almost  the  only  hu- 
man being  who  practically  acknowledged  a  com- 
mon parentage  with  themselves.  The  insects, 
and  reptiles  would  gratefully  report  that  "  when 
severe  droughts  threatened  distress,  and  even 
destruction,  our  precious  benefactor,  with 
his  own  hands,  would  be  sure  to  provide 
and  to  plant  shallow  receivers  in  every  part  of 
his  premises,  and  would  never  forget  to  supply 
the  same  with  that  water  which  could  be  found 
nowhere  else,  though  so  indispensable  to  our 
comfort  and  our  existence."  The  birds,  too, 
would  bear  their  happy  testimony  that — "  in 
the  spring  of  the  year,  when  subjected  else- 
where to  such  severe  toil  to  find  the  proper 
soft,  strong,  and  pliable  material  to  make  our 
nests,  all  around  the  premises  of  Mr.  Hallock, 
convenient  strips  of  suitable  twine  were  scat- 
tered about  upon  the  trees,  the  shrubs,  and  the 
fences,  which  greatly  facilitated  our  labor,  and 
braced,  beautified,  and  perfected  our  little  fam- 


25 

ily  homes.  And  when,  a  few  years  ago,  in 
mass  we  made  him  a  responsive  visit,  in  grate- 
ful remembrance  of  his  annual  contributions  of 
bread  and  grain  and  twine,  he  recognized  our 
common  parentage,  made  a  public  record  of  our 
tuneful  effort,  and  gave  notice  to  men  of  the 
correspondence  which  exists  between  us."  And 
ah !  that  household  pet  who  so  loved  to  recline 
about  his  feet,  and  to  occupy  the  soft  cushion 
of  his  arm-chair  when  he  left  it — what  a  story 
he  could  tell !  Down  to  his  dying  day,  though 
pressed  into  the  grave  by  an  almost  unprece- 
dented complication  of  dreadful  distempers,  if 
our  departed  brother  chanced  to  find  his  arm- 
chair occupied,  he  never  would  permit  the 
occupant  to  be  disturbed,  no  matter  who  might 
be  present — but  the  hard  chair  he  himself 
would  endure,  for  hours  if  need  be,  until 
"Tom,"  unmolested,  had  finished  his  nap, 
and  arisen  and  stretched  himself,  and  delib- 
erately given  place  of  his  own  accord ;  and 
then,  and  not  till  then,  would  Mr.  Hallock 


26 

resume  his  accustomed,  his  only  comfortable 
seat. 

Finally,  the  deceased  was  eminently  firm. 
While  no  man  should  say  that  he  was  ob- 
stinate or  stubborn,  he  who  ventured  to  deal 
unjustly  or  overbearingly  with  him  would  be 
very  apt  to  find  him  just  as  inflexible  as  he 
should  be.  To  stand  by  truth  and  justice  cost 
him  no  effort,  cost  whatever  else  it  might.  To 
the  one  who  ventured  to  suggest  that  he 
should  change  the  course  of  his  editorials  be- 
cause a  multitude  of  his  subscribers  were  giv- 
ing up  their  papers,  he  indignantly  replied — 
"  I  do  not  consult  my  subscription  list  to  find 
out  my  principles."  One  act  indicative  of 
his  unyielding  firmness— the  most  noble  and 
exalted  of  his  life  as  an  act  of  devotion  to 
principle,  to  what  he  believed  to  be  the  right 
—can  never  perish  from  the  memory  of  the 
people  or  the  records  of  the  country, — the 
surrender  of  the  editorship  of  the  Journal  of 
Commerce.  That  act,  as  such,  shall  go  down 


27 

on  the  page  of  American  history  as  the  most 
distinguished  memorial  of  a  private  citizen 
earned  in  our  day.  That  calm,  grand,  and  sol- 
emn editorial  of  August  31st,  1861,  was  a  de- 
liverance in  self-defence, — before  the  accusing, 
confronting  authorities, — to  the  Grand  Jury 
of  the  country  and  the  world, — and  in 
the  presence  of  Almighty  God, — which  pro- 
claimed Gerard  Hallock  a  man  who,  under  a 
mandate  regarded  by  him  as  despotism,  could 
surrender  his  property,  but  not  his  principles  ; 
who  could  part  with  his  tastes,  his  habits,  his 
calling,  and  his  comforts,  but  not  with  his  con- 
science. A  splendid  adherence  to  principle, 
which  embodied  more  of  Roman  dignity,  in- 
tegrity and  intrepidity  than  one  man  in  a 
generation  has  either  the  opportunity  or  the 
virtue  to  perform.  That  act,  thus  viewed, 
|  shall  ever  stand  out  by  far  the  richest, 
loftiest  legacy  of  which  his  family  and  his 
friends  shall  delight  to  boast.  The  solid  virtue 
of  this  most  noble  act  was  fully  sustained  to 


28 

the  last.  Listen  to  these  brave  words  con- 
cerning it,  which  fell  from  his  lips  some  time 
previous  to  his  death.  "  I  have  given  up  my 
business  and  half  my  property  ;  and  I  am  ready 
to  give  up  the  remainder,  if  necessary,  and  — 
my  life  also" 

Honor  to  humanity  !  It  is  a  noble  spec- 
tacle to  see  the  ablest  journals  of  the  country, 
many  of  them  hostile — a  part  inexorably  so, 
for  the  quarter  of  a  century — marching  up  to 
Mr.  Hallock's  grave  to  endorse  our  very  loftiest 
ascriptions  to  his  character. 

Hark  to  a  portion  of  that  testimony  : 

THE   TRIBUNE. 

"  His  mistakes  in  politics  never  affected  his  personal  in- 
tegrity, or  caused  any  man  to  doubt  the  honesty  of  his 
convictions. 

THE   TIMES. 

"  One  of  the  kindest-hearted  men,  generous  to  a  fault, 
fond  of  doing  good,  ever  the  suggester  and  promoter  of 
benevolence,  his  concealed  charities  boundless  and  unceas- 
ing. His  long  life  was  devoted  to  enterprise  in  the  right 
direction  ;  and  while  differences  in  political  and  ecclesiasti- 
cal points  may  have  at  times  led  him  into  discussions  with 
his  fellows,  his  purity  of  life  and  general  bearing  of  charity 
toward  all,  were  the  notable  features  of  his  existence." 


29 


THE   HERALD. 

"  He  had  a  mind  of  powerful  cast,  a  clear  and  almost 
prophetic  view  of  the  state  of  the  country  and  its  political 
relations,  a  broad  and  comprehensive  appreciation  of  men 
and  events,  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  world  and  the 
influences  which  sway  its  destinies,  and  a  courage  to  do 
and  maintain  the  right  at  whatever  sacrifice." 

One  more  tribute.  It  is  from  the  pen  of 
editorial  friendship. 

"  Gerard  Hallock  was  a  Christian  of  no  weak  faith  or 
uncertain  walk,  a  friend  never  to  be  distrusted,  a  man  of 
noble  heart,  of  kindliest  sympathies,  of  child-like  gentle- 
ness, a  patriot,  like  whom  would  God  we  had  a  million 
more  to-day.  He  has  gone  out  of  strife  into  a  world  where 
men  are  judged  by  no  false  witness.  He  has  left  a  reputation 
to  be  admired  and  studied,  and  an  influence  which  is  limited 
in  its  extent  only  by  the  limit  of  American  civilization." 

All  these  testimonials  are  thus  endorsed  by 
one  whose  name  and  fame  are  co-extensive  with 
our  literature. 

"  I  knew  Gerard  Hallock  well.  I  knew  him  early,  inti- 
mately, and  long,  from  his  student  days  onward.  I  knew 
him  as  a  scholar,  a  gentleman,  a  Christian,  and  a  patriot; 
and  I  say  what  such  knowledge  of  him  authorizes  me  to 
say,  that  a  man  of  more  modesty  of  intellect  and  manners, 
of  more  integrity,  of  purer  or  broader  patriotism,  or  sincerer 
piety  (so  far  as  man  can  judge  of  that)  is  not  often  seen, — 
is  nowhere  seen,  in  my  belief.  His  record  is  on  high." 


30 

Brethren  of  the  church !  what  signal  moral 
beauty,  glory,  and  symmetry,  pertain  to  the 
character  of  our  ascended  brother :  so  emin- 
ently simple,  upright,  modest,  truthful,  ben- 
evolent, and  intrepid.  And  here  let  it  be  ob- 
served, that  to  do  justice  to  the  character  of 
Mr.  Hallock,  it  should  be  appreciated  that  the 
strength  of  immutability  seems  to  pertain  to 
the  properties  of  his  nature  far  more  than  to 
those  of  ordinary  men.  His  virtues  did  not 
seem  to  lie  loose  upon  the  surface  of  his  spirit, 
but  to  be  fast  anchored — nay,  so  ingrained, 
essentially,  into  the  very  texture  of  his  soul — 
that  his  palpable  impurity,  or  injustice,  or 
immodesty,  or  untruthfulness,  or  unkindness, 
or  imbecility,  would  seem  to  be  an  impossibil- 
ity from  the  very  nature  of  the  man. 

We  have  seen  what  a  noble  work  for  God 
and  man  our  brother  has  been  impowered  to 
achieve.  Should  it  surprise  any  man  that  such 
a  character  and  such  an  intellect,  indefatigably 
consecrated  through  a  long  and  vigorous  life, 


31 

has  accomplished  so  much  for  the  universal 
weal  ?  Or  should  it  surprise  any  man  that  such 
a  human  being  should  be  profoundly  loved  and 
honored  by  all  who  know  him  ?  Oh !  what  in 
this  world  should  be  appreciated  if  we  are  not 
to  set  a  value  upon  talent,  and  virtue  and  toil, 
working  political  prosperity  to  the  country, 
and  ecclesiastical  advancement  of  the  Kingdom 
of  Christ. 

When  I  look  at  Gerard  Hallock  living 
and  Gerard  Hallock  dead,  I  feel  summoned 
to  call  upon  all  men  to  give  instant  heed 
to  the  three  great  and  simple  examples 
which  he  has  left  for  their  imitation.  Culti- 
vate your  intellect  assiduously  all  through  life 
as  he  did ;  that  you  may  live  for  God  and  man. 
Cultivate  your  moral  and  religious  character 
assiduously  all  through  life  as  he  did  ;  that 
you  may  live  for  God  and  man.  And  now,  be 
sure  to  consecrate  this  intellect  and  character 
to  the  kingdom  and  crown  of  Christ,  assiduously 
all  through  life  as  he  did ;  and  though  at  the 


32 

last  you  may  have  your  transient  struggles,  as 
did  the  master  and  the  disciple,  yet  like  them 
you  shall  soon  cease  from  your  labors  and  your 
good  works  shall  follow  you  into  the  land  of 
"  pleasures  forevermore."  Observe  now  : 

I.  The  death  of  Gerard  Halloed  furnishes  one 
of  the  sublimest  exhibitions  of  Christian  heroism 
on  record  in  the  Church  of  God. 

We  beg  leave  to  premise,  that  throughout 
his  last  illness,  by  the  simple  tests  of  scripture, 
the  spectator  could  clearly  discern  the  personal 
piety  of  the  deceased.  He  saw  that  his  con- 
viction of  sin  was  profound ;  his  sorrow  for  sin 
godly ;  his  faith  in  Christ  exclusive  ;  his  sub- 
mission to  G-od  sincere.  In  a  word,  he  dis- 
covered, with  perfect  precision/  that  every 
doctrine,  feeling,  and  purpose  essential  to  the 
principles  of  religion  were  as  clearly  domiciled 
in  the  soul  of  Mr  Hallock  as  in  the  heart  of 
the  happiest  Christian  of  his  acquaintance. 

We  premise  again,  that  it  pleased  God  for 
wise  reasons,  unrevealed  to  us,  to  deny  to  the 


33 

deceased  the  conscious  comforts  of  Christianity. 
This  is  a  common  element  of  Christian  expe- 
rience, and  perfectly  natural  in  this  case.  A 
gloomy  temperament ;  and  a  still  more  gloomy 
experience ;  and  both  intensified  by  the  most 
gloomy  condition  of  his  body,  it  was  perfectly 
natural  that  he  should  be  temporarily  unable 
to  discover  anything  good  in  himself,  and  per- 
fectly natural  that  he  should  disclaim  its  exis- 
tence. 

But  there  is  a  third  point  to  which  we  beg 
leave  to  call  your  attention  just  here.  Below 
consciousness  there  is  an  underlying  surface  of 
Christian  experience.  For  though  deprived  at 
present  of  the  positive  consolations  of  the 
spirit,  yet  God  and  his  religion  are  in  the  man. 
This  constitutes  an  explanatory  element  indis- 
pensable to  the  intelligent  comprehension  of 
the  phenomena  of  the  case,  i  herefore  it  is, 
that  though  his  faith  as  to  himself  has  stag- 
gered, it  has  not  fallen  ;  though  it  receives  no 
outward  light,  it  still  holds  on  in  the  dark. 


34 

In  view  of  the  peculiar  moral  character  and 
condition  of  the  sufferer,  we  repeat,  we  are 
not  surprised  that  he  should  never  have  felt 
the  raptures,  rarely  the  consolations  of  reli- 
gion ;  nor  that,  just  now,  he  is  a  stranger  even 
to  hope  :  nor  that  even  this  does  not  describe 
the  extent  of  his  bereavement.  For  observe, 
if  you  please,  while  unable  to  detect  the  pres- 
ence of  religion  in  his  soul,  the  absence  of  it 
must  of  course  seem  to  him  a  matter  of  con- 
sciousness. Ever  prompt'  to  respond  to  those 
who  enquired  concerning  his  spiritual  state,  on 
one  occasion  in  reply,  he  thus  expressed  him- 
self :  "  I  know  that  he  that  believeth  shall  be 
saved ;  but  I  have  no  faith.  I  know  that  he 
who  is  not  regenerated  must  perish,  and  I 
have  no  evidence  of  regeneration."  Such  in 
substance  was  his  laconic  reply  to  every  in- 
quiry. Thus,  you  perceive,  like  the  master  in 
his  last  days,  it  was  arranged  that  the  disciple 
too,  in  his,  should  be  placed  under  the  hidings 
of  his  Father's  countenance,  as  if  God-forsaken. 


35 

In  this  appalling  state  of  abandonment  what 
were  his  surroundings  ?  The  King  of  Terrors 
was  advancing  hard  upon  him,  sword  in  hand. 
This  he  knew.  And  Satan,  who  loves  to  worry 
whom  he  cannot  destroy,  and  to  take  advan- 
tage of  the  crippled  condition  of  his  victim, 
doubtless  rushed  upon  him  like  a  giant,  and 
plied  his  weary  soul  with  that  accursed  troop 
of  sore  and  fierce  temptations  whereby  he  had 
cowed  and  crushed  his  spirit  through  so  many 
dark  and  bitter  months  of  his  life.  "  Thou  art 
doomed."  "  The  man  that  made  not  God  his 
friend."  "  The  man  who  is  following  the 
funeral  of  his  own  soul,  and  the  grave  thereof 
just  at  hand."  "The  great  sinner  whom  a 
righteous  God  will  like  to  damn." 

In  that  death  chamber  of  Mr.  Hallock — what 
a  scene  !  The  sufferer  all  helpless  and  hope- 
less within !  An  array  of  overwhelming,  crush- 
ing adversaries  at  the  very  door!  And  how 
did  he  bear  himself  in  this  unequal,  this  porten- 
tous conflict  ?  He  fixed  his  solemn  eye  upon 


36 

Death  and  Hell,  and  all  their  hideous  retinue, 
and  awaited  their  approach,  to  all  appearance 
as  composed  and  sustained  as  if  that  eye  rested 
upon  the  opening  gate  of  heaven.     Yes!  all 
alive   to   his    immortality,  accountability,  de- 
pravity, and  condemnation :  fully  sensible   of 
the  nearness  of  death  and  retribution  :  and  all 
unconscious  of  acceptance,  and  feeling,  as  he 
thought,  the  very  frown  of  heaven  ;  yet  such, 
after  all,  was  his  underlying  confidence  in  the 
rectitude  of  God,  and  the  truth  of  His  word  ; 
such  his  hold  upon  the  great  foundations  all  in 
the  dark ;  that  not  an  act,  or  word,  or  thought, 
or  tone  indicated  the  very  slightest  agitation 
at  any  moment  of  his  illness.     He  was  just  as 
calm  and  serene  and  self-poised  as  a  man  could 
be.     He  ever  acted  as  if  that  were  true,  which 
he  ever  repeated  to  the  day  of  his  death,  that 
he   was   but    "  half-sick."     He    went    to   the 
house  of  God  just  as  long  as  he  could  ride  in  a 
vehicle.     He  read  the  Bible  in  family  devotion 
just  as  long  as  he  had   the  necessary  voice. 


37 

He  kneeled  in  prayer  just  as  long  as  he  could 
rise  from  his  knees.  He  occupied  his  chair  at 
the  family  table  to  the  very  meal  before  his 
death.  Nor  did  he  ever  allow  friend  or  kins- 
man to  watch  with  him.  No  matter  what  the 
topic,  secular  or  spiritual,  yours  or  his,  his 
conduct,  his  manners,  his  language,  his  tone 
were  all  just  as  easy  and  natural  to  the  very 
moment  of  his  death,  as  if  the  weight  of  a 
feather  did  not  rest  upon  his  mind. 

On  the  day  of  his  death  he  announced  in  the 
morning  his  belief  that  he  had  transacted  his 
last  act  of  business  ;  consented  during  the  day 
to  an  exchange  of  chambers  from  one  on  the 
second  floor  to  another  on  the  first ;  and  allow- 
ed himself  to  be  assisted,  at  night,  to  walk  out 
of  the  sitting-room  into  the  chamber.  Placed 
in  an  easy  chair,  with  his  feet  on  the  footboard 
near  the  stove,  and  his  limbs,  which  had  been 
growing  cold  for  hours,  comfortably  wrapped, 
he  looked  up  and  half  cheerful  said  :  "  How  com- 
fortable we  all  are  here !  We  have  everything 


38 

to  make  us  happy.  How  much  better  off  than 
many  poor  people  this  cold  night  !  I  would 
like  to  have  you  leave  me  alone  for  awhile  ;  I 
am  very  comfortable."  Five  minutes  had 
scarcely  elapsed,  ere  the  family  returned  and 
found  him  on  the  floor  in  the  act  of  dying. 
We  know  nothing  here  ;  but  the  bystanders 
around  his  breathless  body  verily  believe, 
that  he  solicited  their  absence  because  he  knew 
he  was  near  death,  and  neither  wished  to  be 
confused  by  a  sense  of  their  presence,  nor  to 
pain  them  by  the  vision  of  the  issue  ;  that  hav- 
ing committed  his  soul  to  Glod,  he  deliberately 
closed  his  own  eyes,  and  sank  powerless  to  the 
floor. 

Most  intensely  oppressed  by  adverse  truth  ; 
yet  as  mightily  sustained  by  inwrought,  uncom- 
forted  faith.  What  prodigious  power  is  here  ! 
Quiet  endurance  without  seeming  support, 
under  pressure  almost  infinite.  Oh,  what 
resplendent  heroism ! !  Where  in  all  this 
world  will  you  find  a  courage  like  this  ?  Behold 


39 

that  grand  army,  in  double  quick  rushing  up  to 
storm  formidable  works.  They  know  that  in 
the  space  of  one  single  minute,  the  half  of  them 
must  go  down  in  the  roar  of  the  conflict,  yet 
on  they  rush ;  what  courage  here  ?  And  yet 
the  similar  courage  of  a  thousand  just  such 
armies  would  not  supply  the  necessities  of  Mr. 
Hallock's  death  chamber.  He  thought,  he 
knew,  he  ever  fdt  that  in  his  own  soul  he  had 
more  at  stake  than  the  lives  of  half  the  bodies 
of  a  thousand  grand  armies.  And  see !  in  a 
sense  —  nay!  to  his  very  consciousness  —  it 
seemed  as  if  all  was  lost.  And  yet,  that  man 
was  so  calm,  and  to  the  very  last  could  talk 
about  the  matter  with  infinite  composure ! ! 
Oh !  the  power,  and  the  value,  and  the  dignity, 
and  the  heroism  of  our  blessed  Christianity ! 
And  oh !  the  omnipotent  grace  which  God 
vouchsafes  to  a  feeble  creature,  at  the  very  mo- 
ment when  blinded  nature  feels  that  grace 
would  scorn  to  notice  his  most  piteous  suppli- 
cation ! 


40 

II.  The  peculiarities  of  Mr.  Hallock's  natural 
temperament  and  religious  experience  furnish 
a  relieving  exposition  respecting  the  peculiarities 
of  his  social  habits  and  manners. 

It  must  be  acknowledged,  that  in  some  re- 
spects he  was  one  of  the  most  unsocial  and 
solitary  of  the  human  family.  He  was  rarely 
ever  known  to  seek  the  society  of  a  fellow 
man  or  make  a  social  call  upon  a  friend.  One 
solitary  visit  in  forty  years  is  all  that  is  noted 
in  the  family  register.  His  manners,  too,  it 
must  be  confessed,  in  general  were  singularly 
grave  and  cold,  taciturn  and  incommunicative. 

If  I  mistake  not,  his  temperament  and  experi- 
ence had  much  to  do  in  the  construction  of  these 
peculiarities. 

From  his  very  youth  he  displayed  a  retiring, 
poetic,  sombre  constitution.  The  subjects  of 
his  compositions  in  college  indicate  this  fact. 
Listen  to  the  catalogue  :  "  A  Reverie  among  the 
Tombs,"  "Mayhew's  Grave,"  "Autumn,"  "The 
Vale  of  Years,"  &c.  The  sentiments  that  per- 


41 

vade  these  productions  confirm  the  judgment 
expressed.  You  will  be  assured  of  this,  if  you 
but  peruse  the  first  sentences  of  these  compo- 
sitions, without  explanation,  as  they  stand 
casually  arranged  in  a  book  by  a  friend. 

"  My  harp  is  broken,  and  my  lyre  unstrung  ; 
My  years  are  fled,  my  hopes  in  sackcloth  hung ; 
And  earth  is  palPd  in  sadness,  and  its  bloom 
Is  but  the  flower  that  blossoms  o'er  the  tomb." 

Again,— 

44  Ah  me  !     How  soon  the  bloom  of  friendship  fades  ! 
My  dearest  joys,  oblivion's  gloomy  shades 
Have  curtained  from  me." 

Again,— 

"  To  a  feeling  heart  there  is  something  inexpressibly  ten- 
der in  the  whispers  of  Autumn.  It  is  a  season  which  no  one 
can  approach  without  emotion,  and  none  can  pass  through 
without  feeling  how  transient  and  how  perishable  are  the 
charms  of  earth." 

Again,— 

"  Oh  !  how  I  bleed  when  pensively  I  tread 
'Long  the  dread  confines  of  the  dead ; 
Where  lone  and  sad  the  weeping  willows  wave 
O'er  the  dark  regions  of  the  insatiate  grave." 


42 

Again,— 

"  Oh  hopeless,  dismal  state,  to  be  confined 
To  this  vile  clay  and  this  still  viler  mind ! 
Why  chain  me  thus  to  my  own  mouldering  corpse, 
Which,  only  to  behold,  my  senses  warps 
Into  distraction  ?     Tis  an  awful  doom  ! 
Yet  I  could  bear  the  horrors  of  a  tomb- 
Corpse,  winding  sheet,  and  all  the  ghastly  forms 
That  dance  their  orgies  dire  to  reveling  worms, 
Were  this  my  only  destiny  : — but  oh  ! 
The  plague  and  torment  of  a  heart  of  woe" 

These  are  the  first  sentences  of  compositions, 
not  selected,  but  just  as  they  succeed  each 
other  on  the  record.  How  clearly  they  reveal 
a  melancholy  chord  in  the  very  structure  of 
the  man.  His  sensibilities,  like  the  strings  of 
an  ^Eolian  harp,  were  tyuched  by  the  slightest 
breath  of  mortal  sorrow,  and  filled  the  posses- 
sor with  the  mournful  strains  of  their  every 
vibration.  The  fact  is,  this  vein  of  constitu- 
tional pensiveness  overspreads  and  tinges  all 
the  effusions  of  his  mind,  and  stands  out,  the 
capital,  distinguishing  feature  of  his  entire 
correspondence,  as  well  as  of  his  fugitive  pro- 
ductions. We  shall  cite  but  one  illustration. 


43 

In  a  letter  to  a  friend,  just  after  graduating, 

he  says : 

"  Mr.  E.,  is  just  such  another  secluded  mortal  as  I  am. 
We  have  a  grove  about  a  mile  from  the  Academy  that  is 
really  a  solitary  haunt.  We  usually  visit  it  in  the  decline 
of  day.  A  solemn  stillness  reigns,  save  the  chattering  of  a 
multitude  of  moaning  night  birds  that  resort  here  as  a  re- 
treat from  the  eye  of  man.  It  is  closed  from  the  face  of 
day  by  a  multitude  of  pines  that  overhang  a  spot  where  no 
flower  ever  blooms,  and  no  plant  ever  receives  the  radiance 
of  the  sun.  Here,  retired  from  the  din  and  hurry  of  life, 
we  ponder  on  our  nature,  our  duty  and  our  destination." 

Observe  now,  whatever  morbid,  sombre, 
gloomy  temper  nature  gave  him,  his  religious 
convictions  could  not  fail  to  darken.  Oh,  the 
fearful  images  that  haunted  him  through  life ! 
He  has  been  heard  to  say,  as  already  stated, 
that  for  a  long  time  he  was  oppressed  with  the 
conviction  that  "the  very  atmosphere  was 
gloomy ;"  that  he  himself  was  a  doomed  man ; 
that  every  step  he  took  on  earth,  was  a  tread- 
ing in  the  funeral  of  his  soul ;  that  every  human 
being  that  threw  his  eyes  upon  him  on  his  way 
to  perdition,  would  point  and  say, — "There 


44 

goes  the  man  who  made  not  God  his  friend." 
The  strongest  feelings  of  man  on  earth  are  the 
outworkings  of  God's  truth  on  his  soul.  Such 
terrible  images  as  abode  upon  Mr.  Hallock's 
spirit ;  such  dreadful  anathemas  as  ever  rung 
in  his  ears,  must  have  stirred  the  hardest  soul 
to  its  lowest  foundations  ;  how  much  more  the 
subject  of  such  dark  and  tender  sensibility! 
Had  he  been  a  man  of  social  nature,  who  could 
have  thrown  out  his  inmost  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings upon  his  friends,  and  taken  home  their 
diluting  meditations  and  their  relieving  views, 
it  might  have  mitigated  the  severity  of  the 
infliction.  Not  so  that  sombre,  lonely  being, 
who  shares  his  thoughts  with  none  ;  but  with 
intensest,  ever-during  contemplation  holds  up 
those  terrific  forms  within,  to  frown  their 
dark  and  harrowing  power  down  to  the  pro- 
foundest  depths  of  the  soul.  Oh,  if  there  is 
a  wretched  man  on  earth,  you  have  found  him 
now !  Who,  who  can  doubt  for  an  instant  that 
such  a  constitution  and  such  an  experience  are 


45 

the  necessary  parents  of  a  solitaire  ?  Such  a 
man  must  be  unsocial  in  his  habits  ;  unsocial  in 
his  manners.  That  morbid,  melancholy,  smit- 
ten spirit,  ever  listening  to  the  echoings  of 
such  terrific  curses  and  maddening  forebodings 
in  the  dark  caverns  of  his  soul, — how  can 
such  a  mortal  endure  society.  Most  assuredly 
solitude  is  the  only  possible  refuge  of  such  a 
spirit.  The  last  thing  such  a  man  can  do  is  to 
break  away  from  his  accursed  tormentors,  and 
the  last  thing  he  would  do  is  to  share  his  sor- 
rows with  another.  Ingraft,  therefore,  the 
very  slightest  truth  on  the  constitution  of  the 
unhappy  man,  and  he  must  meet  every  one 
on  earth  with  a  gravity  that  would  chill  him ; 
and  he  must  part  with  him  at  sight,  lest  he  be 
forced  to  lie  by  pretending  an  interest  which 
he  does  not  feel  in  any  topic  that  may  be 
presented. 

We  commend  to  you,  brethren,  the  lesson 
we  deduce  from  these  reflections.  Mr.  Hal- 
lock's  unsocial  habits  and  manners  are,  in  a 


46 

measure,  the  philosophical  result  of  his  mor- 
bid constitution  and  his  afflicting  convictions. 
Now,  if  any  man  has  been  accustomed  in  his 
own  mind  to  ascribe  hi?  unsociableness  to  a 
proud,  unfeeling,  or  selfish  disposition,  let  him 
read  here  that  inner  history  which  his  own 
delicacy  would  never  have  revealed,  and  from 
this  hour  let  him  do  justice,  and  vindicate  an 
innocent  and  afflicted  fellow  being  from  his 
own  past  unrighteous  accusations.  Above  all, 
let  the  world  deeply  honor  the  departed  when 
they  reflect  that  instead  of  being  driven  by 
the  assassins  of  his  peace  to  intemperance, 
insanity,  or  suicide,  he  has,  all  through  life, 
commanded  himself  with  such  perfection  of 
intelligence  and  benevolence,  that  while  on 
the  one  hand  he  has  trodden  the  wine  press 
alone,  and  never  troubled  a  human  being  to 
share  his  sorrows ;  on  the  other  he  has  man- 
aged to  accomplish  his  great  life-work  to  gen- 
eral satisfaction  under  all  the  heavy  disadvan- 
tages of  crippled  peace  and  powers. 


47 

III.  If  the  dark  side  of  Mr.  Hallock's  nature 
advances  claims  to  be  relieved  from  the  unjust 
imputations  it  may  have  awakened,  its  brighter 
side  will  be  sure  to  minister  a  pleasing  surprise 
to  many  who  may  never  have  imagined  its  beau- 
tiful and  touching  features. 

In  passing  through  life,  Mr.  Hallock's  frigid 
exterior,  —  rather  his  unsympathizing  sur- 
face,—  to  say  the  least,  left  him  but  very 
inadequately  understood  of  men.  It  is  due 
to  God,  the  world,  and  the  man,  that  an  effort 
should  be  made  to  set  him  before  his  race 
somewhat  as  he  was.  In  making  a  momentary 
effort  in  this  direction,  we  must  beg  leave, 
first  of  the  spirit  of  our  departed  brother,  then 
of  his  family  and  the  public,  in  this  extraordi- 
nary case  to  be  allowed  to  trespass  a  little 
beyond  the  ordinary  limits  of  family  privacy, — 
we  almost  fear  of  delicate  propriety, — to  reach 
those  warm  affections,  beautiful  sympathies, 
virtuous  aspirations,  noble  promptings,  saga- 
cious hits,  and  a  thousand  other  charming  things 


48 

which  abounded  wherever  his  pen  carried  out 
the  workings  of  his  heart  to  his  kindest  and 
most  intimate  friends.  Our  simple  method 
shall  be  to  throw  before  you  in -his  own  words, 
and  in  unexplained  connection,  a  continuous 
succession  of  these  lovely  exhibitions  of  his 
brighter  side  as  we  shall  find  them  scattered 
through  his  private  correspondence  and  fugi- 
tive productions. 

"  I  anticipated  much  satisfaction  in  visiting  with  you,  my 
brother,  the  seats  of  our  childhood  and  recounting  the  sim- 
ple and  interesting  annals  of  our  morning  years.  There  is 
something  grateful  in  looking  back  upon  the  innocence  of 
childhood — so  cheerful — so  happy — so  indiscreet — so  prone 
to  feed  on  ideal  bliss,  and  yet  with  us  so  guarded  and 
sanctified  by  the  watchfulness  of  our  dear  parents.  Few, 
very  few,  my  brother,  have  such  cause  for  thankfulness  in 
view  of  family  concerns  as  we  have." 

To  a  brother  in  England : 

"  I  shall  think  of  you  as  sustained  and  soothed  by  the 
nearest,  kindest,  and  best  of  earthly  comforters.  It  is  true 
I  have  not  the  means  of  knowing  definitely  the  precise 
value  of  the  prize  you  have  drawn ;  but  from  the  fact  of  its 
being  that  which  a  wise  man  has  chosen,  I  cannot  doubt 
but  it  has  made  you  rich  indeed.  I  should  want  no  better 


49 

recommendation  of  a  woman,  as  far  as  it  goes,  than  her 
willingness  to  embark  on  a  3,000  or  4,000  miles  voyage, 
leaving  her  delightful  shores  and  friends  behind,  in  order 
that  she  might  benefit  and  bless  the  ignorant  and  perishing. 
As  you  have  entered  on  this  new  relation  without  counsel 
from  your  American  friends,  so  I  suppose  you  are  not  very 
anxious  whether  they  approve  or  disapprove  of  the  course 
you  have  taken.  Nevertheless,  I  shall  make  bold  to  say, 
that,  so  far  as  I  know,  we  heartily  concur  in  the  wisdom  of 
your  choice,  and  wish  that  a  thousand  blessings  may  rest 
upon  you  and  your  partner.  I  know  the  state  upon  which 
you  have  entered  is  infinitely  promotive  of  human  happiness. 
Were  I  alone  in  life,  instead  of  being  a  husband  and  a 
father,  I  would  embrace  the  first  fair  opportunity  of  binding 
myself  in  these  silken  chains.  All  that  a  miserable  Coelebs 
anticipates  of  cares  and  troubles  in  the  married  state,  is  a 
dream  of  his  own  imagination ;  for  these  very  cares  and 
troubles,  shared  in  so  endearing  a  connection,  are  converted 
into  pleasure." 

On  parting  with  a  friend,  he  throws  out 
this  passionate  burst : 

"  I  sometimes  exclaim  in  a  kind  of  agony,  '  cruel  fate  ! 
that  should  thus  tear  me  from  my  best  friends.'  I  have 
but  few  friends  on  earth ;  but  those  few  are  dearer  to  me 
than  life.  Be  assured  that,  whether  living  or  dying,  I  am 
your  sincere  but  unworthy  friend." 

To  his  wife  : 

"  There  is  no  where  on  earth  to  be  compared  with  che 
peaceful  shelter  of  my  home." — "  How  happy  you  and  I  are 


50 

in  our  home  life.  If  we  look  over  the  past,  scarcely  a 
breath  has  ruffled  the  surface  of  our  social  relations.  Now 
I  know  the  stubbornness  of  my  own  disposition  too  well — 
yes,  and  my  excitability  too,  not  to  understand  to  whom 
this  beautiful  harmony  and  love  are,  under  God,  to  be  at- 
tributed. You  have  never  undertaken  to  rule  me ;  and  yet 
by  keeping  within  your  own  sphere  you  have  ruled  me  even 
as  you  listed.  I  wish  a  thousand  other  women  might  un- 
derstand this  secret  of  a  wife's  supremacy.  It  is  all  told 
in  some  of  the  Epistles,  but  how  few  women,  comparatively, 
so  read  as  to  understand." 

"  '  Your  hope  in  Jesus  ! '  I  know  of  nothing  on  earth 
which  could  have  given  me  such  unmingled  satisfaction. 
And  I  desire  to  thank  Grod  for  his  mercy  vouchsafed  in 
your  behalf.  In  some  respects  we  have  been  unfortunate, 
but  how  little  do  these  things  appear  when  contrasted 
with  the  amazing  interests  of  the  soul.  I  rejoice  with 
you,  and  ever  will  rejoice,  in  what  Jesus  has,  as  we 
humbly  trust,  done  for  you ;  and  my  fervent  desire  is 
that  I  may  be  like  you  as  far  as  you  bear  the  image  of  the 
Saviour." 

"  But  God  has  been  better  to  us  than  our  fears ;  yes, 
better  than  our  hopes;  and  after  what  He  has  done  for 
you,  may  He  not  do  the  same  for  me  ?  I  feel  that  I  need 
His  salvation  ;  that  He  is  infinitely  worthy  of  my  love,  and 
that  I  am  wholly  unworthy  of  His  favorable  notice." 

"My  home  is  now  more  desirable  to  me  by  far  than  ever, 
since  it  is  consecrated  by  the  Christian's  affections  and  the 
Christian's  hope."  '*  We  have  lived  together  many  years 


51 

very  happily,  and  I  hope  more  are  in  reserve  for  us."  "  I 
am  these  days  very  cheerful  and  very  sad.  I  feel  all  the 
time  as  if  I  owed  a  thousand  thanks  for  the  mercy  mani- 
fested to  you,  but  I  rejoice  with  sorrow  for  what  I  know  and 
feel  in  regard  to  myself."  "  I  want  that  you  should  not 
give  me  up  as  reprobate,  nor  be  discouraged  by  anything 
I  have  said,  from  dropping  your  sweet  words  of  piety  in  my 
ears,  and  placing  them  before  my  eyes,  as  often  as  you 
please.  There  is  no  knowing  which  shall  prosper,  this  or 
that.  And  furthermore,  it  is  pleasant  to  me  in  itself.  I 
hope  it  is  to  you."  "  It  is  something  that  I  can  have  your 
prayers,  and  that  I  can  know  there  is  at  least  one  in  this 
world  who  cares  for  my  soul.  I  wish  I  could  join  you  in 
your  path  to  the  Heavenly  Canaan.  I  feel  I  have  lived 
long  enough  in  this  way,  and  have  no  desire  to  live  longer 
unless  I  can  live  better,  save  for  the  single  purpose  of  pro- 
viding for  and  loving  my  family  and  being  loved  by  them." 

To  his  child  : 

"  MY  DEAR  DAUGHTER  :  I  write  you  this  line  to  tell  you 
how  sorry  I  am  that  I  spoke  to  you  so  harshly  when  you  en- 
tered the  carriage  on  Monday  morning.  I  must  learn  to  be 
more  gentle,  even  if  I  am  hurried.  I  should  have  said  some- 
thing like  this  :  '  Now,  my  child,  I  am  afraid  you  will  be  dis- 
appointed. You  have  got  into  the  carriage  expecting  to  ride 
to  school  with  me  ;  but  I  am  obliged  to  go  in  the  opposite 
direction  on  business.  Next  Monday  morning  I  shall  hope 
to  have  the  pleasure  of  your  company.'  You  will  learn 
from  my  example,  how  bad  it  is  to  be  impatient,  and  how 
uncomfortable  it  is  to  others.  I  hope  my  child  will  culti- 


52 

vate  the  opposite  virtue,  and  that  her  father  will  do  like- 
wise. I  suppose  as  you  see  Thomas  plowing  the  garden, 
and  James  beginning  to  plant,  you  are  thinking  about  your 
garden  also.  You  must  have  a  little  spot  which  you  can 
call  yours,  where  you  can  plant  or  set  out  what  you  please, 
and  see  the  plants  grow,  and  call  them  your  own.  But 
you  also  have  a  full  interest,  in  common  with  the  rest  of 
the  family,  in  all  the  garden,  trees  and  grounds,  and  I  trust 
you  will  enjoy  yourself  much  in  running  about  and  hearing 
the  birds  sing,  and  swinging.  I  hope  to  see  you  again  next 
Saturday,  in  which  case  perhaps  we  shall  find  time  to  take 
a  little  walk  together,  and  see  the  oxen,  and  the  bird's  nest." 

To  a  relative : 

"  My  little  Caroline  went  to  sleep  (for  to  nothing  else  could 
it  be  so  aptly  compared,)  on  Sabbath  evening  at  a  quarter 
past  six,  and  was  buried  yesterday  afternoon.  Her  sick  room 
afforded  such  an  example  of  meekness,  patience  and  sub- 
mission, amidst  great  weakness,  and  for  some  days  extreme 
suffering,  as  is  scarcely  ever  seen.  She  had  her  reason  to 
the  last,  and  her  little  corpse  looked  so  sweet  and  lovely 
that  one  would  have  almost  wanted  to  kiss  it.  I  feel  a 
degree  of  confidence  that  she  is  safe  in  the  arms  of  the 
Saviour,  many  of  whose  traits  of  character  as  a  man  she  so 
closely  imitated.  Those  who  have  associated  with  her 
most  intimately  and  freely,  think  she  has  been  a  Christian 
for  months.  She  was  asked  what  she  must  do  in  order  to 
go  to  heaven.  She  answered,  she  must  love  Jesus  Christ 
and  obey  his  commandments,  or  to  that  effect :  and  then 
added,  "  I  hope  I  do  love  him  some."  She  has  for  many 


53 

months  past  expected  to  be  very  short  lived.  A  little 
before  she  was  taken  with  her  last  sickness,  noticing  the 
birds  on  the  trees  close  by,  something  was  said  about  their 
soon  leaving  us.  The  remark  was  added,  "  but  they  will 
come  back  next  spring,"  and  my  Caroline  said,  "but  I  shall 
not  be  here,"  and  after  a  pause,  "  nor  at  mamma's  house.  I 
shall  be  in  my  little  grave  in  the  burying  ground." 

We  trust  we  have  laid  before  you  extracts 
from  his  correspondence  in  sufficient  variety 
and  extent  to  reveal  this  fact :  that  he  at  heart 
was  an  impassioned  friend  arid  a  loving  hus- 
band and  father  ;  that  he  had  a  passionate  ad- 
miration of  the  sweets  of  home,  and  a  shrewd 
vision  of  the  ways  of  Providence ;  in  a  word, 
that  he  was  a  gifted  man,  so  gentle,  modest,  and 
just ;  so  sombre,  and  yet  so  sprightly  ;  that 
could  you  have  penetrated  the  shell  his  mel- 
ancholy mood  had  built  around  him,  you 
yourself  might  have  found  in  the  brighter, 
inner  features  of  his  character,  just  such  a 
fellow-man  as  you  should  have  delighted  to 
record  your  nearest  neighbor  and  your  bosom 

friend. 

5 


54 

IY.  Mr.  Hallock's  experience  was  in  itself 
pre-eminently  Christian,  and  to  his  friends 
should  be  profoundly  consoling. 

It  is  proper  to  premise,  that  the  ministers 
of  the  gospel  who  visited  him  during  his  last 
days  had  abundant  opportunities  of  personal 
conversation  with  the  deceased,  and  that  he 
always  expressed  his  feelings  with  the  utmost 
freedom  and  distinctness.  Nor  should  it  be 
forgotten,  that  he  knew  his  own  religious  con- 
sciousness as  definitely,  and  could  express  it  as 
perspicuously,  as  almost  any  man  knew  and 
could  explain  his.  When,  therefore,  the  attend- 
ing ministers  declare  that  he  possessed  this  and 
that  defined  religious  feeling,  every  one  must 
decide  for  himself  in  the  premises  the  degree 
of  confidence  which  should  be  reposed  in  that 
testimony. 

In  their  judgment,  the  dying  experience  of 
Mr.  Hallock,  in  its  type,  was  the  dying  expe- 
rience of  his  Master.  Jesus  felt  Himself  for- 
saken of  God.  As  a  man,  so  did  His  humble 


55 

disciple.  Under  this  desertion  Jesus  only  held 
the  more  tenaciously  to  God.  As  a  man,  so 
did  this  humble  disciple.  Through  all  His 
conflict  Jesus  submitted  Himself  reverently  to 
the  will  of  God.  As  a  man,  so  did  this  hum- 
ble disciple.  Finally,  from  duty  to  duty, 
apparently  uncheered,  Jesus  passed  on  into 
the  presence  of  God.  As  a  man,  so  we  trust, 
did  this  humble  disciple. 

»  The  dying  experience  of  Mr.  Hallock  exhib- 
ited exact  conformity  to  the  conditions  pre- 
scribed by  Christ  to  secure  his  blessing.  On 
a  distinguished  occasion,  said  Jesus  Christ : 
"  Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit ;  " — honest  self- 
abasement  for  sin  against  God.  If  we  knew 
the  state  of  his  mind,  this  was  one  of  the 
strong  feelings  of  his  soul.  "  Blessed  are  they 
that  mourn  ;  " — deep  grieving  of  soul  for  neg- 
lect and  disobedience  of  a  righteous  and  mer- 
ciful Father.  If  we  knew  the  state  of  his 
mind,  this  was  one  of  his  deepest  convictions. 
"Blessed  are  they  that  hunger  and  thirst  after 


56 

righteousness  ;" — strong  desires  for  righteous- 
ness for  its  own  sake,  and  because  due  to  Glod. 
If  we  understood  his  feelings,  this  was  one  of 
the  sincerest  longings  of  his  soul.  Now,  if 
Mr.  Hallock's  dying  experience  bore  such 
marked  resemblance  to  that  of  his  Master,  and 
involved  such  ample  compliance  with  the  pre- 
scribed conditions  of  His  blessing,  surely  we  are 
warranted  in  saying  that  his  experience  was 
pre-eminently  Christian. 

It  may  surprise  unreflecting  men,  it  is 
nevertheless  true,  that  Mr.  Hallock's  exercises 
in  their  nature  give  the  very  strongest  evidence 
of  religion  which  it  is  in  the  power  of  man  to 
exhibit.  Like  David  in  the  Psalms,  our  de- 
parted brother,  in  all  his  desolation,  seems  to 
stand  before  God,  and  substantially  press  this 
most  solemn  plea :  "  My  Maker,  blot  out  all 
lights,  cut  down  all  comforts,  strike  away  all 
props,  inflict  all  curses,  and  brand  reprobation 
upon  my  very  soul,  so  that  I  shall  seem  to 
taste  the  bitter  doom ;  still  I  cannot,  cannot 


57 

give  thee  up.  I  have  nothing,  to  fall  back 
upon.  Nothing  that  I  love, — nothing  that  I 
want, — nothing  that  can  fill  my  soul,  or  cheer 
my  heart  I  have  been  put  out  of  sympathy 
with  everything  on  earth  as  a  chief  good. 
Nothing  suits  my  great  relations, — nothing 
meets  the  solemn  demands  of  my  moral  na- 
ture. My  God,  I  cannot  let  thee  go.  Thou 
art  my  all  in  all.  Abandon,  afflict,  accurse, 
slay  me, — yet  will  I  trust  in  Thee.  A  wreck 
and  a  wretch  without  Thee,  ah,  whither, 
whither  shall  I  go  ?  Oh  my  God  and  Saviour! 
while  I  have  any  being  I  must  cling  to  thee, 
to  thee  only,  to  the  bitter  end."  Regenera- 
tion puts  the  soul  out  of  vital  sympathy  with 
creation,  into  vital  sympathy  with  God,  and 
when  roused  and  put  into  desperate  straits,  it 
must  act  precisely  as  described  above.  And 
observe  ;  nothing  but  regeneration  can  act  so, 
and  therefore  nothing  can  so  triumphantly 
prove  regeneration.  Every  other  species  of 
Christian  evidence  must  have  something  joy- 


58 

ous  about  it.  Now  nature  loves  to  be  joyous, 
and  in  these  cases  this  may  be  all  that  is  loved. 
But  everything  that  nature  loves  is  stormed 
away  from  Mr.  Hallock's  soul,  and  nothing, 
nothing  therefore,  but  naked  Christian  princi- 
ple, could  hold  on  at  such  a  time.  As  yon  oak 
on  the  mountain  crag,  which,  though  stripped 
and  dismantled  in  its  fearful  wrestle  with  the 
tempest,  still  stands  firmly  rooted, — anchored 
to  the  rock. 

We  have  not  discussed  this  point  to  brace 
up  Mr  Hallock's  Christian  character.  It  need- 
ed no  support.  That  splendid,  old  fashioned, 
orthodox,  Calvaiiistic  account  of  his  experience, 
left  us  in  his  own  hand-writing,*  in  these  days 
is  a  rare  and  ample  evidence  of  his  personal  in- 
terest in  the  religion  of  the  Lord  Jesus.  "  By 
their  fruits  ye  shall  know  them."  Fourteen 
years  ago  he  united  with  this  church,  under  the 
fervent,  faithful  ministry  of  its  first  pastor,  Rev. 

*See  Appendix. 


59 

J.  C.  Stiles,  D.  D.,  and  ever  since  his  blameless, 
spiritual  walk  and  conversation  have  been 
a  Christian  testimony  which  needs  no  confir- 
mation. No !  It  was  rather  for  the  comfort  of 
his  friends  that  we  called  up  these  thoughts. 
Many  persons,  not  deeply  learned  in  the  ele- 
ments, action,  and  evidence  of  true  religion, 
forgetting  that  Jesus  Christ  Himself  had  an  ex- 
perience of  which  this  disciple's  was  an  almost 
exact  counterpart,  would  be  very  apt  to  be 
made  unhappy  and  hopeless  by  the  seeming 
comfortless  gloom  of  his  last  days.  Profound 
consolation,  rather,  they  should  assuredly  feel 
in  view  of  two  truths — his  experience  was  pre- 
eminently Christian,  and  the  very  strongest 
type  and  style  of  Christianity  earth  shall  ever 
know. 

Brethren  and  sisters,  and  friends  of  this 
church  and  congregation  !  I  come  to  your 
relief  at  last.  You  have  enjoyed  all  this  at- 
tempted tribute  to  the  work  and  worth  of  our 


60 

friend.  And  you  have  rejoiced  to  have  the 
world  stand  by  and  give  heed  to  these  solid 
testimonials  of  his  exalted  character.  But  you 
have  felt,  too,  that  you  have  long  sustained  a 
far  warmer,  closer  relation  to  the  departed 
than  the  world  can  claim,  and  are  not  content 
therefore  to  yield  only  a  formal  respect  to  his 
memory.  You  demand  now,  to  be  allowed  to 
come  nearer  to  our  honored,  sainted  brother. 
But  where  is  the  evidence  ?  Where  the  bond? 
Where  the  monument  of  his  peculiar  relation 
to  you  ?  Here  it  is,  brethren !  This  noble 
edifice  ! 

'-He  hath  loved  our  nation  and  built  us  a 
synagogue" 

Christianity  is  the  fountain  head  of  all  good 
to  man, — individual,  national,  universal  Ab- 
stract from  any  people  all  the  good  they  have 
received  from  Christianity,  and  that  nation  is 
doomed.  Impart  the  blessings  of  true  religion 
to  every  inhabitant  of  a  nation,  and  that  peo- 
ple you  glorify.  Piety,  therefore,  is  the  per- 


61 

fection  of  patriotism.  Christianity,  remember, 
works  out  its  redeeming  effects  through  a 
church  and  its  ordinances.  He,  therefore,  who 
discreetly  builds  a  synagogue,  is  the  prince  of 
patriots. 

But  it  has  been  said  that  Mr.  Hallock  built 
this  sanctuary  for  earthly  gain, — to  magnify 
the  value  of  his  adjacent  land.  He  always  said 
that  this  charge  would  be  tabled  ;  but  added, 
"  if  the  accuser  knew  my  business  as  well  as  I 
do,  he  would  not  risk  his  accusation."  Time 
has  proved  the  man  impeached  the  wiser 
financier.  One  hundred  and  nineteen  thou- 
sand dollars  have  already  been  expended  upon 
the  enterprise.  Had  this  sum,  with  the  conse- 
crated thought  and  toil  of  fourteen -years,  been 
otherwise  invested,  the  issue,  a'l  must  see, 
would  have  verified  his  prediction,  and  he 
would  have  lived  and  died  a  richer  man. 

Mr.  Hallock,  his  bitterest  enemies  now  ad- 
mit, was  an  eminently  honest  and  truthful  man. 
What  account  does  he  give  of  his  own  motives 


62 

in  the  erection  of  the  church?  A  Christian 
brother,  witnessing  an  exhibition  of  his  splendid 
liberality,  after  a  momentary  pause,  thus  ad- 
dressed him  :  "  You  have  two  things  to  be 
thankful  for,  which,  jointly,  bless  but  few  men  : 
a  large  purse,  and  a  large  heart  in  the  disburse- 
ment of  it  "  With  his  accustomed  philosophic 
gravity,  he  thus  responded :  "  From  my  boy- 
hood I  have  observed  that  every  man  grew 
covetous  in  proportion  as  he  grew  rich,  if  he 
did  not  keep  giving.  I  am  making  money  and 
must  give  it."  Observe  now,  he  affirmed  to 
his  friends  that  one  motive  which  influenced 
him  to  build  the  church,  was  self-protection  ; 
to  defend  the  liberalities  of  his  natural  heart 
against  the  choking  grasp  of  approaching 
covetousness. 

Above  all  unconverted  men  we  ever  knew, 
he  felt,  spoke,  acted,  and  aimed  most  like  a 
Christian.  He  was  always  a  great  Sabbath- 
keeping,  church-going  man.  Between  his  own 
home  and  the  central  city  church  which  he 


63 

attended  011  every  Sabbath,  he  had  seen  so 
much  desecration  of  the  day,  so  many  children 
running  wild  in  the  streets,  that  he  naturally 
felt  that  it  would  be  an  unspeakable  blessing 
to  establish  a  good  Christian  church  in  these 
then  neglected  outskirts  of  the  city.  Observe 
again!  Mr.  Hallock  always  stated  to  his  friends 
that  another  motive  which  actuated  him  in  the 
erection  of  the  church  was,  love  to  his  neigh- 
bors. 

Right  or  wrong,  Mr.  Hallock  had  long  be- 
lieved that  the  primitive  piety  of  New  England 
was  somewhat  on  the  wane :  that  the  old- 
fashioned,  simple,  orthodox  preaching  of  his 
father,  uncle,  and  the  men  of  their  day,  urging 
steadily  and  passionately  the  distinguishing 
doctrines  of  the  gospel,  had  given  way  to  a 
degenerate  exhibition  of  God's  message,  which 
travels  out  too  far  from  the  heart  of  Chris- 
tianity to  matters  more  external,  and  imports 
indiscreetly  into  the  sanctuary  the  fires  of  po- 
litical and  fanatical  excitement.  With  many 


64 

other  men,  he  verily  believed  that  another  kind 
of  Gospel  presentation — one  that  would  keep 
close  to  the  great  central  doctrines,  and  fire  up 
on  these,  and  rather  close  the  door  against  the 
unwholesome  foreign  fires  of  the  day,  would 
work,  both  in  its  direct  and  exemplary  influ- 
ence, a  vast  advantage  to  the  cause  of  Christ. 
Observe  once  more !  Mr.  Hallock  always  af- 
firmed to  his  friends,  that,  with  him,  a  third 
object  of  his  church  erection,  was  the  glory  of 
God  in  the  dissemination  of  a  purer  gospel. 
We  reaffirm, — he  was  a  man  to  be  believed ; 
especially  when  he  stands  in  God's  house,  be- 
fore the  officers  of  God's  church.  It  was  under 
these  solemn  circumstances  that  you  heard  him 
on  the  last  Sabbath*  bear  testimony  to  the 
deep  religious  workings  of  his  soul  respecting 
this  very  matter  of  the  building  of  the  church. 

"  I  saw  the  walls  of  the  Church  going  up,  with  the  feel- 
ing that  I  was  precisely  in  the  condition  of  Noah's  carpen- 
ters, who  were  building  an  ark  for  the  salvation  of  others, 

*See  Appendix. 


65 

but  were  themselves  to  be  lost.  I  believe,  as  nearly  as  I 
can  analyze  my  feelings  at  that  time,  I  was  glad  to  have 
others  saved,  even  if  I  must  be  lost." 

Thus,  on  multiplied  occasions,  he  has  borne 
witness  that  he  built  this  church  to  accomplish 
these  three  ends,  viz  : — to  shield  his  own  heart 
from  covetousnrss ;  to  give  his  destitute  neigh- 
bors  the  blessings  of  a  convenient,  Christian 
church  ;  and,  with  all  the  solemnity  of  the 
presence  of  his  Maker,  to  give  God  glory  in  the 
salvation  of  men.  He,  then,  whose  profane 
tongue  styles  this  sacred  house,  "  the  church  of 
the  Holy  Compromise,"  "  the  land  specula- 
tion," would  do  well  to  ponder  the  doom  of  him 
who  "  offends  one  of  these  little  ones." 

Have  the  objects  of  the  builder  in  the  con- 
struction of  the  church  been  accomplished  ? 
Thank  God !  from  the  day  of  its  dedication 
it  has  been  a  church  of  revivals.  What  human 
thought  can  compass  (he  blessings  which  God 
hath  seemed  to  distribute  through  the  instru- 
mentality of  this  enterprise  !  How  many  chris- 


66 

tian  professors,  through  its  services  and  influ- 
ence, have  been  preserved  from  backsliding 
and  declension;  have  been  edified,  sanctified 
and  comforted  ;  have  been  kept  in  a  state  of 
prayer  and  faith  and  daily  duty  ;  and  have  here 
found  a  field  of  helpful  Christian  effort,  been 
upheld  under  trial,  and  finally,  matured  for 
heaven !  How  many  children  have  been  gath- 
ered into  the  Sabbath  school,  and  youth  into 
the  Bible  class,  and  been  instructed,  restrain- 
ed, advised,  and  received  that  well-laid  founda- 
tion on  which  God's  saving  work  shall  be  built 
ere  long !  Yes !  And  how  many  sinners,  we 
have  reason  to  hope,  have  been  converted  to 
God  and  eternally  saved !  Oh  !  who  can  speak 
the  holy  consolations,  the  heavenly  fellowship 
we  have  enjoyed  in  this  church,  especially  in 
seasons  of  revival !  Nor  have  we  alone  receiv- 
ed the  blessings  of  this  sacred  enterprise.  For 
glad  we  are  that  our  noble  benefactor  has  had 
his  share  in  the  smiles  of  God  upon  us.  Con- 
trary to  his  dark  forebodings,  unlike  Noah's 


67 

builders,  he  did  find  salvation  in  the  ark  he 
built.  Like  his  brothers  and  sisters,  he  too 
has  ever  found  a  pure,  increasing  satisfaction 
in  all  the  services  of  this  house  of  G-od,  much 
more  than  any  mortal  knew. 

But  we  are  here  to-day  to  record  the  fact 
that  our  great  friend,  our  precious  benefactor, 
is  no  more.  Our  solemn,  modest,  pure,  dear 
Mr.  Hallock  has  left  us  for  the  eternal  world. 
We  shall  see  him  no  more  at  our  weekly  meet- 
ings for  social  prayer.  We  shall  see  him  no 
more  every  Sabbath,  moving  with  measured 
step  up  this  middle  aisle  as  solemn  as  Moses  on 
his  way  to  the  summit  of  Sinai.  We  shall  be- 
hold him  no  more  seated  in  yonder  pew,  with 
reverence  so  stern  that  from  the  founding  of 
the  church  he  has  never  been  known  on  a  single 
occasion  to  turn  his  head,  to  look  upon  a  face, 
or  to  trace  a  sound.  We  shall  meet  him  no 
more  at  yonder  sacred  table  where  we  so  often 
fed  upon  the  bread  of  life  together.  Oh  yes ! 
our  great  friend,  our  patron  brother,  is  gone ! 


68 

and  who  will  take  his  place  ?  To  help  us,  who 
so  wise,  so  kind,  so  vigilant,  so  firm,  so  strong 
as  he  ?  If  we  rarely  heard  him,  surely  we  ever 
felt  him.  For  he  was  our  peace,  and  under 
his  wings  did  we  trust.  He  was  our  glory, 
and  at  our  head  we  felt  honored.  But  he  is 
gone,  and  who,  who  we  ask  shall  fill  his  place  ? 
Already  we  begin  to  dream  that  we  feel  the 
foundations  shaking  beneath  us,  and  see  the 
heavens  blackening  above  us.  What !  are  all 
these  sacred  privileges  insecure  ?  All  this  rich 
fellowship,  these  endearing  consolations,  these 
cherished  hopes,  this  valued  accustomed  plat- 
form for  Christian  work — like  him  is  none  left 
now  to  throw  his  wing  over  us  and  all  our  holy 
blessings,  and  uphold  when  days  of  storm  and 
sorrow  come  ?  Hearken,  oh  my  people,  hearken 
to  the  one  only  voice  of  consolation,  "  Fear 
not,  for  /  am  with  thee  ;  be  not  dismayed,  for 
/  am  thy  God ;  /  will  strengthen  thee ;  yea  / 
will  help  thee  ;  yea,  /  will  uphold  thee  with  the 
right  hand  of  my  righteousness."  I  solemnly 


69 

proclaim  this  present  Christian  trust  in  God 
Himself  the  one  only  lesson  of  our  salvation  at 
this  sorrowful  crisis.  We  must  now  put  God 
in  the  place  of  man,  and  in  His  own  far  higher 
place.  We  must  learn  to  expect  far  more  from 
our  unseen  Father  above  than  we  ever  receiv- 
ed from  our  earthly  father  here.  Alas!  we 
may  have  been  destroying  our  power  to  trust 
in  God,  by  cherishing  too  happy  a  confidence 
in  man. 

Though  it  cost  severest  grief,  on  this  solemn 
day  let  vis  learn  this  only  saving  lesson.  God 
has  taken  our  loved  and  loving  brother.  Here, 
then,  in  the  house  he  built,  his  own  appro- 
priate monument ;  on  the  confines  of  that  nar- 
row house  where  we  so  lately  laid  his  precious 
dust;  in  vivid  memory  of  all  we  have  so  long 
enjoyed  with  him  in  happy  Christian  fellow- 
ship ;  just  here  and  now,  we  will  heartily 
give  him  up,  and  let  him  go.  And  here 
and  now  we  do  most  humbly  covenant, 
that  from  this  sad  hour  we  will  struggle  to 


70 

give  God  in  our  affections  the  highest  place, 
and  in  all  our  coming  trials  the  truest  trust ; 
while  the  memory  of  our  dear  brother  we 
will  enshrine  in  our  inmost  souls,  and  to  his 
sainted  spirit  bid  a  solemn,  tender,  farewell,— 
farewell ! 


The  following  relation  of  Christian  experience  has  been  referred  to 
in  the  Discourse.  It  was  originally  prepared  and  read  by  Mr.  Hallock 
to  the  Committee  of  the  Church.  He  did  not  himself  feel  that  he  had 
such  evidence  of  regeneration  as  would  justify  an  application  for 
admission  to  Christian  communion.  He  was,  however,  induced  by  his 
pastor  to  ask  advice  of  his  brethren,  and  accordingly  gave  to  them  this 
account  of  his  spiritual  state.  It  was  found  among  his  papers  after  his 
death,  and  was  read  at  his  funeral.  The  insight  into  his  inner  life 
which  it  furnishes,  justifies  its  presentation  here. 


APPENDIX. 


Like  most  other  persons  religiously  educated,  I  have, 
almost  from  my  infancy,  experienced  seasons  of  special 
religious  awakening; —sometimes  my  mind  has  been  deeply 
impressed,  and  I  have  seemed  to  myself  not  far  from  the 
kingdom  of  God. 

In  looking  back  to  such  periods,  I  can  see,  I  think,  that 
I  was  always  secretly  relying  upon  something  which  I  had 
done  or  could  do,  as  a  ground  of  my  acceptance, — and  never, 
under  a  proper  sense  of  my  own  vileness,  casting  myself 
wholly  upon  the  mercy  of  God  in  Jesus  Christ.  Conse- 
quently, instead  of  being  regenerated,  as  I  might  have 
been,  had  it  not  been  for  my  own  self-reliance,  I  always 
lost  my  impressions,  after  days  or  weeks  or  months,  and 
became  as  careless  and  indifferent  as  ever  to  the  concerns 
of  my  soul. 

With  the  progress  of  years,  and  the  cares  of  the  world, 
these  seasons  of  awakening  became  less  frequent,  and  in 
general,  less  powerful.  I  was  sometimes  alarmed  to  see 
how  deeply  I  was  sunk  in  worldliness,  and  how  I  seemed  to 
be  abandoned  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  without  whose  influences 
I  knew  I  never  should  be  converted.  In  the  meantime, 
there  grew  up  in  my  mind  a  conscious  alienation  from  God, 
together  with  a  kind  of  remorse,  and  a  feeling  that  God 

6* 


74 

would  like  to  damn  me,  by  way  of  retributive  vengeance. 
In  this  state  of  mind  I  was,  when  a  revival  took  place  in 
Rev.  Mr.  Strong's  congregation,  with  which  I  was  then 
connected, — I  think  it  was  in  the  winter  of  1848-9.  It  had 
no  effect  upon  me  at  first,  except  to  bring  out  ray  latent 
enmity.  I  attended  none  of  the  meetings,  except  the  two 
regular  services  on  the  Sabbath, — until  one  Sabbath  noon, 
one  of  the  Deacons  called  at  my  house,  and  spoke  to  me 
plainly,  though  kindly,  about  my  soul.  I  heard  what  he 
said,  but  replied  in  monosyllables,  and  was  glad  when  he 
was  gone.  I  then  felt  determined  not  to  attend  to  the  subject 
of  religion  at  that  time,  and  I  felt  a  sort  of  desperation, 
which  disposed  me  to  postpone  the  whole  subject  to  an  un- 
certain future,  whatever  the  consequences  might  be.  In 
this  fearful  and  Heaven  provoking  way,  my  mind  became 
roused,  and  I  began  to  see  that  I  was  probably  lost.  The 
very  atmosphere  seemed  gloomy,  and  there  was  constantly 
before  my  mind,  for  days,  if  not  weeks,  the  idea  of  my  own 
funeral  from  my  own  pleasant  home,  after  having  enjoyed 
more  than  my  share  of  the  good  things  of  this  life, — a 
wretched  outcast  from  God,  with  the  feeling  deep  in  the 
minds  of  the  spectators,  and  by  some  perhaps  expressed, — 
"  This  is  the  man  that  made  not  God  his  friend."  I  knew 
that  these  dreadful  words  were  applicable  to  my  case ;  and 
they  rung  in  my  ears  from  day  to  day.  At  length  my  alarm 
gradually  subsided,  and  was  succeeded  .by  a  calm,  in  which 
I  remember  to  have  felt  a  strong  desire  to  be  good,  pure, 
and  Christ-like.  This  continued  for  some  days.  As  I 
never  had  had  such  feelings  before,  the  thought  crossed  my 
mind  that  possibly — just  possibly — this  was  conversion.  I 
however  did  not  allow  myself  to  hope,  and  expressed  no 


75 

hope  to  others.  Indeed  no  person  knew  the  state  of  my 
mind  with  any  exactness,  nor  do  I  suppose  any  one  was 
aware  that  I  had  been  so  deeply  interested  on  the  subject 
of  religion.  I  continued  my  daily  reading  of  the  Bible  and 
prayer  for  several  months,  and  then  dropped  both,  except 
occasionally, — finding  them  irksome  and  uncongenial  to  my 
wicked  heart.  For  nearly  a  year  prior  to  Dr.  Stiles'  coming 
to  New  Haven,  I  had  scarcely  ever  attempted  to  pray.  I 
saw  the  walls  of  the  church  going  up,  with  the  feeling  that 
I  was  precisely  in  the  condition  of  Noah's  carpenters,  who 
were  building  an  ark  for  the  salvation  of  others,  but  were 
themselves  to  be  lost.  I  believe,  as  nearly  as  I  can  analyze 
my  feelings  at  that  time,  I  was  glad  to  have  others  saved, 
even  if  I  must  be  lost.  Dives  in  the  parable  had  a  similar 
desire. 

When  Dr.  Stiles  and  Rev.  Mr.  Sawtell  came  to  New 
Haven  with  reference  to  the  dedication  of  the  new  Church, 
in  June  1852,  they  both  made  my  house  their  home.  I 
was  struck  with  the  very  serious  manner  in  which  they 
treated  the  matter,  praying  over  it  again  and  again,  publicly 
and  privately.  My  impressions  of  the  great  moral  differ- 
ence that  existed  between  those  men  and  myself,  were  also 
strong.  Dr.  Stiles  once  remarked  to  me  that  the  manner 
in  which  we  should  dedicate  that  church,  might,  and  prob- 
ably would,  have  a  decided  bearing  upon  its  usefulness,  as 
long  as  its  walls  should  stand.  I  however  felt  that  I  could 
not  enter  into  his  spirit, — that  I  could  do  nothing  towards 
devoting  the  church  to  Christ,  except  to  give  the  use  of  its 
walls  to  those  who  might  wish  to  occupy  them, — and  I  was 
painfully  conscious  of  a  moral  deadness,  coldness,  and  aliena- 
tion from  God.  But  I  did  not  yet  attempt  to  come  to  any 


76 

better  state  of  mind — I  did  not  pray — I  had  not  done  so 
for  months !     One  day  Dr.  Stiles  told  me  he  wanted  pretty 
soon  to  have  a  plain  conversation  with  me  on  the  subject 
of  personal  religion ;  at  the  same  time  giving  me  to  under- 
stand that  he  suspected  I  was  a  Christian.     I  told  him  I 
should  be  happy  to  talk  with  him,  but  if  he  expected  to  find 
anything  good   in  me,  he  would   be  greatly  disappointed. 
One  Sabbath  evening,  I  think,  he  spent  half  an  hour  in  a 
kind  inquiry  as  to  my  state  of  mind ;  and  when  he  ascer- 
tained it,  he  presented  to  me  God  as  a  kind  Father,  and 
myself  as   a  wayward,  undutiful  child;  he  showed  how 
ready  and  anxious  that  kind  Father  was  to  receive  me  into 
his  arms,  notwithstanding  my  far  wanderings,  and  what  He 
had  done  to  render  it  possible  to  receive  me,  consistently 
with  His  justice,  honor,  truth,  the  equity  of  His  administra- 
tion and  the  welfare  of  His  universe.    This  conversation 
was  admirably  fitted  to  my  hard,  alienated,  desperate  state 
of  mind ;  and  the  idea  that  God  was  so  ready  to  forgive 
and  bless  and  save  even  me,  notwithstanding  my  long  life 
of  sin,  overpowered  my  feelings,  and  sent  me  too  my  knees, 
as  soon  as  I  found  myself  alone,     I  then,  for  some  days,  was 
in  much  the  same  condition  as  before  described,  when  my 
funeral  was   so  constantly  before   my  eyes,  accompanied 
with  the  dreadful  sentence,  "  This  is  the  man  that  made 
not  God  his  friend."     The  world  looked  gloomy  to  me,  and 
I  had  no  taste  for  business  or  diversion  of  any  kind.    With- 
out God  and  without  hope  in  the  world,  were  the  words 
continually  recurring  to  my  mind.     For  weeks  and  months 
following  this    date,  my  soul  was   more  absorbed  in  the 
things  of  religion  than  anything  else.     Dr.  Stiles'  preaching 
from  Sabbath  to  Sabbath,  and  his  prayers  and  exhortations 


77 

at  other  meetings,  went  home  to  my  understanding  and  con- 
science, as  no  such  exercises  ever  did  before.  It  would  be 
tedious  to  particularize.  But  I  may  mention  that  his  ser- 
mon from  the  text,  "  If  I  be  a  Father  where  is  my  honor  ?" 
was  a  powerful  one  to  me,  and  so  were  his  numerous  ser- 
mons on  the  love,  grace,  mediatorship,  and  atoning  sacrifice 
of  Christ.  A  remark  which  he  made  in  one  of  his  sermons, 
that  "nothing  stands  between  the  sinner  and  salvation 
but  his  own  will"  came  home  to  my  mind  as  clearly  as 
light,  and,  as  a  visible,  tangible  truth,  practical  in  my  own 
case,  it  was  new  to  me ;  for  I  had  always  had  a  secret  feel- 
ing that  I  was  willing  and  waiting  to  be  saved;  but  that 
God  was  not  quite  ready  ; — that  I  must  use  more  means, 
strive  more,  be  better,  &c.,  and  then  perhaps  He  would 
receive  me.  For  weeks  and  months,  my  trips  in  the  cars 
to  and  from  New  York  were  almost  wholly  devoted  to  re- 
ligious thought  and  the  repetition  of  hymns ;  and  I  may 
say,  they  were  pleasant  seasons,  particularly  after  my  mind 
had  settled  to  some  degree  of  calmness.  The  hymns  which 
I  speak  of, — I  mean  those  which  were  continually  recurring 
to  my  mind, — I  had  never  committed  to  memory,  although 
I  had  often  read  them.  The  first  hymn  that  occupied  this 
prominence  in  my  mind,  was  that  beginning, 

"  Like  sheep  we  went  astray. 
And  broke  the  fold  of  God." 

bringing  up  vividly  man's  ruin  and  Christ's  sacrifice.  A 
little  later,  the  hymn, 

"  How  heavy  is  the  night, 

That  hangs  upon  our  eyes, 
'Till  Christ  with  his  reviving  light 
Over  our  souls  arise," 


78 

was  uppermost  in  my  thoughts.  This  hymn  revealed  the 
preciousness  of  Christ,  and  His  perfect  righteousness  in 
place  of  my  unrighteousness. 

Our  guilty  spirits  dread 

To  meet  the  wrath  of  Heaven, 
But  in  his  righteousness  arrayed, 

"We  see  our  sins  forgiven. 

Unholy  and  impure, 

Are  all  our  thoughts  and  ways, 
His  hand  infected  nature  cures, 

With  sanctifying  grace. 

The  powers  of  hell  agree 

To  hold  our  souls  in  vain ; 
He  sets  the  sons  of  bondage  free, 

And  breaks  the  cursed  chain. 

Lord,  we  adore  thy  ways 

To  bring  us  near  to  God ; 
Thy  sovereign  power,  thy  healing  grace, 

And  thine  atoning  blood. 

These  two  hymns,  I  suppose,  passed  through  my  mind 
scores,  if  not  hundreds  of  times,  and  seemed  fresh  and  in- 
teresting each  time,  and  an  exact  expression  of  my  own 
feelings  and  views.  Later,  and  after  the  strength  of  my 
feelings  had  subsided,  the  hymn, 

"  The  Lord  my  Shepard  is," 

took  the  place  of  the  foregoing ;  or  perhaps  I  should  say, 
was  added  to  them ;  and  was  often  repeated,  with  admira- 
tion and  delight. 

And  here  I  must  say,  that  if  God  has  begun  a  good  work 
in  me,  (concerning  which  I  am  in  great  doubt,)  I  suppose 


79 

the  change  took  place  within  three  months  after  Dr.  Stiles 
came  to  New  Haven.  I  recollect  to  have  had  very  distinct 
and  strong  impressions  of  the  readiness  of  God  in  Christ  to 
save  sinners,  even  the  chief;  and  that  all  the  reason  why  I 
was  not  saved,  was  my  own  unwillingness  to  submit.  All 
my  hardness  towards  God  seemed  to  have  passed  away, 
and  I  looked  upon  Him  and  His  character  with  approbation, 
At  least  I  thought  so,  and  that  I  wished  none  of  His  attri- 
butes or  commandments  changed,  whatever  might  be  the 
consequences  to  me  personally. 

I  have  not  allowed  myself  to  hope  that  I  was  a  renewed 
man,  and  yet  I  have  detected  a  lurking  hope,  for  a  number  of 
months  past, — I  hardly  know  why,  unless  it  be  that  I  have 
had  an  habitual  feeling  akin  to  reconciliation,  and  an  inter- 
est in  the  prosperity  of  the  Redeemer's  kingdom.  But  on 
the  other  hand,  I  find  so  much  coldness  in  my  heart,  so 
little  love  and  faith,  if,  any  at  all — and  so  many  other 
things  that  a  holy  God  cannot  approve,  that  I  know  not 
whether  I  have  any  right  to  enter  Christ's  fold.  I  shall 
take  it  as  a  real  kindness,  if  my  Christian  friends  will  probe 
my  heart  to  the  bottom,  and  then  advise  me  what  is  my 
duty.  I  earnestly  desire  faithful  and  plain  dealing,  in  a 
matter  involving  the  well-being  of  my  soul,  and  in  some 
small  measure  the  purity  of  the  church  and  the  Glory  of 
God. 


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